I Thought He Said I Love You
by XxJuStxN0thInGxX
Summary: Oneshot. Love is a wonderful feeling, but what if the one who holds your heart only feels lust in return? MalikxBakura


I say it again, I do NOT own YuGiOh. It should be sufficient enough.

This story is a MalikxBakura. I'm sorry if it turns out to be crap as I had come up with the idea while in the shower and had all my friends hating me. Plus the fact I wrote it in only half and hour doesn't help. However, I think it's well-enough and would love to hear thoughts of encourgement.

Rated M for SOME adult material. I didn't get all descriptive here.

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Koibito: Sweetheart, or lover

Tenshi: Angel

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I Thought He Said I Love You

His lips were warm, not on just my mouth but on the rest of my body as well. His hands skimmed down my chest, fingertips barely grazing my flesh, so opposite of those rough ways of his that I was by now so used to. My neck was completely covered in his dark markings and I doubted that even one millimeter of my normal tanned flesh was visible.

Now, he did it again... All too innocently grazing one of his large, rough hands over my crotch, making me squirm and moan in delight. I had my amethyst eyes squeezed shut, biting down on my lower lip to keep my pleas and the longing to beg under control. It was be exactly what he wanted to hear, the purpose of these ministrations. Fingers just dipping below the waistband of my pants before withdrawing again. This was absolute torture. I did not want this teasing from him but his rough love, to hear ragged and lustful words whispered into my ears while he claimed me over and over as his own.

"B-... Bakura..." How sweetly his name always rolled off my tongue, sounding like the softest silk whenever I spoke it, even if I was screaming it in the midst of passion.

He had been busy trailing the tormenting butterfly kisses down my toned abdomen, getting so very close to the waistline of my tight leather pants again, which were tighter than ever but he still would not take them off and release me from that cursed fabric. He had been the one to tell me to wear them and sometimes I ever regretted showing up in them for our first love night together as he seemed to be more in love with them than me. I could laugh at the thought, since when did he love? No, what he felt would be pure lust, a wanting for my body and nothing more.

But I loved him, with all of my heart. He was my reason for living, the one being that could make me feel sorrow, joy, want to cry, laugh, hate and love with so many more contrasting emotions all at the same time. With a single kiss he'd captivated me. Opening my eyes when I noticed his kisses stop I saw his dark eyes boring down into my own and like usual my heart skipped its beat and my breath caught in my throat.

"Yes, **_tenshi_**?" His warm, sweet breath rolled down over my face as he spoke. Even something as intended as that made me crazy. Before I could answer he covered my open mouth with his, his tongue just as quickly sliding into my mouth. Suckling greedily at it I wanted to reach up and ran my fingers through his long, snow white hair but he had my wrists tied back against the posts of the bed, the very first thing he had done.

He tasted of cinnamon, he always did. Something so pleasant and saccharine for such a vile creature like himself. The honeyed spice when you expected the coppery taste of blood.

"Please... s-stop it... Take me, I c-can't wait... anymore..." While he was calm, cold and controlled like always I was desperate, panting for breath and arching up against him for just a little more contact. My hips collided on his, on accident, and a smirk of satisfaction came to my full lips, which were swollen from his rough kisses, when I heard him moan from the contact.

"MMmmm... do you like that, **_koibito_**?" I whispered huskily up to him and arched again, this time rubbing my hips hard into his and saw him tilt his head back with another moan leaving his seductive mouth that was forever twisted in that seductive smirk. It had been the very first thing that appealed me to him. That never wavering and always present smirk, so sleek, so damn sexy. Next it was his eyes, dark brown and always holding the look of evil, or maybe slight evil... Now I saw devilish mischief that was glossed over in apparent lust... or was it lust? It had to be my mind playing its silly tricks again, for I dared to believe that I saw something more past that one demanding passion.

Tracing my gaze down his chest I took in the delicious sight. Perfectly sculptured, muscles plainly visible along with solid defined abdomens lower below. I wish I had a body as great as him. Sure, I was fit and perfectly attractive, but he made me feel like crap in comparison. Then down to the blue jeans he wore. He beat me there too.

A soft rosy blush dusted itself across the tan flesh of my cheeks as my thoughts were broken to find him low on my body again, unbuttoning and dragging down the zipper to my pants with his teeth and promptly dragged them down and off, tossing the article of clothing carelessly to the side and the floor, my boxers following quickly and my face heated up to over a hundred degrees when he nuzzled me between my legs, running his wet tongue over my erect and throbbing length. Again, I moaned his name loudly, hardly noticing that he stopped for a second to rid himself of his own pants.

His hands went to my hips and flipped me over so my back was to him, the tattoos that had been forcingly engraved there in my young age visible. He told me he found it a turn on to stare at the black ink that was forever embedded in my skin, seeing the ancient scripts and prophecies depicted there. And call me foolish, but I had eaten it all up, growing to love the marks I had despised just because of what he said.

The ropes he had bound my wrists with were now digging painfully into my flesh and I knew the skin there would be raw and rubbed off by the time he had finished with me though I did not mind it at the least. I used to, but had grown accustomed to it, learning to forget about it. And in a way, it had its ups as it the mornings he would take care of it, cleaning and bandaging up the wounds with the greatest care.

A scream of pain left my mouth when I felt him thrust his thick, long shaft into my tight ass. He never used any sort of lubricant to use the pain and help with the entry. He loved to cause pain, something everyone knew. And he did not let go of those twisted habits, even for me. Sometimes though... I thought that it was only to hear me scream his name for this too, he had told me he enjoyed. Never loved... That word did not even come into his vocabulary, or so I believed.

One hand continued to grip my hip to help drive himself hard and deep, the pain soon fading to become the thick waves of bliss and ecstasy. His fingers had curled around my length, pleasuring me with his skilled hands from the front while he took me from the back.

"Ohhhh... G-god, Bakura!" I wanted to cry to him that I loved him but the last and first time I had admitted those feelings he had only nodded, turned away and left me with a heartbreak. So I never repeated it again, not at least directly. When he would sleep, I would whisper the words to him and kiss his face, imagining his accented voice hissing them back to me. But it never happened and probably never would.

However long our love making went on, I did not know, but it was never enough. He licked me clean afterwards then tugged up the sheets and blanket to cover us, his arms encircling me and his handsome face becoming buried in the crook of my neck, nestled between the warm flesh and my platinum blonde hair which was damp from the sweat.

"Malik..." I heard him whisper softly and snuggled close to him, able to just enjoy his presence next to me, comforting.

Then he mumbled something more, but it was so quiet that I barely heard it. And when I moved to look at him he was asleep, snowy tresses falling into his face, which I brushed back. He had untied my hands just before and indeed the tan skin was rubbed a raw pink color.

Even though his words had been unclear, hushed by his exhaustion what I had thought them to be was enough to set my heart ablaze with all the warmth he'd placed in it. And even if what I had taken and made out was nowhere close to what he had murmured, the possibility of it was all too entirely enough to satisfy me.

I thought he said, "I love you."

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Please review! Any helpful hints of suggestions are entirely welcome, though any flames could be kept to oneself. 


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